


Correction

by DarkAngelOfSorrowReturns



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Costumes, F/M, Gift Fic, Humor, Marvelously Magical Fanfiction's Something Wicked Fic Exchange 2019, Mild Sexual Content, Mild Smut, Slow Romance, Timeline What Timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 05:41:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21192494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkAngelOfSorrowReturns/pseuds/DarkAngelOfSorrowReturns
Summary: Pansy wasn't a big fan of her costume, but she'd own it all the same. Of course, someone comes along to offer a correction.





	Correction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GaeilgeRua](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GaeilgeRua/gifts).

> I hope it lives up to standards! I ended up rushing a little bit when I lost track of time and timezones :P Set somewhere before Civil War in happy fun times for all. 
> 
> Many thanks to my alpha Bex for giving my humorous ideas! I love you bunches. Any beta mistakes are my own.

With one hand Pansy brought the glass of whiskey to her lips; her other hand tugged at the leathery material she wore.

She didn’t have a clue why she allowed Hannah to choose the costume; perhaps the Hufflepuff’s traits were rubbing off on the Slytherin. Merlin, that would be positively dreadful. Nevertheless, she befriended the woman after she was one of the first to embrace her after the war’s end a decade ago. 

Upon graduation, Pansy couldn’t stay in England and deal with the losses. Hannah was more than supportive, and the friends traveled to the States. Settling into the Muggle community with a new magical legislature was easier than Pansy thought–after  _ accidentally  _ breaking a law or two. 

Granger even came to visit from time to time, though they weren’t the best of friends. They were closer than before, obviously, and in time things could change. It was in the cards after Granger provided her with a job opportunity that she never considered. She was going to be paired with the ‘cavalry’ that protected the States beyond the magical and Muggle communities known as the Avengers. There were Dark objects that escaped England’s clutches from the last remaining Death Eaters and scattered across the galaxy. The Aurors could only stretch across so much, and when it crossed the States’ lines, it became problems for other organizations willing to protect their homes. 

She was grateful for Granger more than she was when the witch changed Draco’s sullen attitude to one that was tolerable. 

Getting close to members of the Avengers meant more connections which meant more parties. One of those particular parties happened to be the Halloween party they host at the compound every year. Everyone was meant to let loose and enjoy themselves. Pansy tried to be extravagant every chance she could with her costumes, but she let Hannah talk her into this one. 

She hated it, even if the idea was admirable. 

Who in their right mind would consider Wonder Woman? The colors were far too bright and less green. She wouldn’t wear something like this on any night but Halloween, and  _ that  _ was a stretch. Hannah was lucky that she loved her. When they arrived at the festivities, Hannah had wandered off immediately to seek out the God of Thunder. Pansy wished him luck when Hannah finally got ahold of him. 

Pansy herself was finally–for the most part–settling against the bar counter with her glass, ready to scout for potential conversations and future connections. Her attempt was short-lived, as the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. 

This feeling was vaguely familiar from her final years in Hogwarts before Voldemort was defeated; a feeling as though someone’s eyes were trained specifically on her. 

On a typical day, Pansy would feel flattered if not more confident about herself when she felt someone staring at her. Even the fleeting looks sent her way upon her arrival didn’t bother her. It felt the tiniest bit different when someone was staring at her in a large space filled with people disguising themselves.

She ignored the fact she wasn’t entirely confident in her costume. Appearances were important no matter what; she owned her looks even if her wand was stuck in her hair. Pansy could thank her mother for instilling that particular principle. 

With that in mind, Pansy was certain her appearance–regardless of her personal opinion–was  _ stunning _ ; therefore, someone was staring at her for another reason. With the intentions unknown, Pansy couldn’t let her guard down for a second. 

The witch played it off by taking a drink, her eyes shifting at her surroundings as the glass rose to her face. 

It seemed like everyone was minding their own affairs as they had before she sensed anything; everyone except for one person.

Captain America.

His eyes were narrowed behind his mask peering at her with his head slightly tilted. She shouldn’t be so surprised that he decided to wear his uniform since it could technically be considered a costume to the public. It was a practical decision, logical for a man still adjusting to the times.

Yet...there was no way the others wouldn’t use this opportunity to loosen his morality for one night. 

And he  _ wouldn’t _ be staring at her like she was a creature from an unknown galaxy he wouldn’t mind shagging. Not when it was public knowledge that he was monogamous and his partner had some territorial moments—and wouldn’t hesitate to blast someone with his Iron suit. 

Pansy eyed the man skeptically. This wasn’t just a simple costume; this man was an exact embodiment of Captain America yet couldn’t be Steve Rogers.

An answer was on the tip of her tongue, but the captain was heading towards her. Her wand was tucked securely in her right arm gauntlet just in case things turned unpleasant; she wished she had gotten a few more glasses of whiskey in her system first.

His strides in the patriotic suit were confident like Steve’s but something was off. They were elegant...sinister. A walk that she would compare to Blaise’s when he was starting to charm his next fling. 

That’s when she realized who was ‘dressed up’ as Captain America. 

“Hello, my little witch. You’re wearing quite the costume,” he said. That silky, alluring voice did  _ not  _ belong to the face smirking at her. 

It belonged to the God of Mischief himself.

Pansy hadn’t heard or seen the Asgardian in a year at least, not since her last roundup mission paired her with him. Merlin knows why; she didn’t trust him and he grated on her last nerve every minute they spent together until the artifact was retrieved. Somehow she still woke the next day tangled in his bedsheets. She cursed her weak flesh and avoided him since. 

She was far from the cowardly girl in her teens, but associating herself with Loki wouldn’t do her any good. She was no redeemer. 

Being stubborn, however, was a different subject. 

Pansy folded her arms, cocking her hip slightly to the right. “Could say the same for you, Loki,” she replied. “After all, you aren’t the type to represent valiance.” 

“At least I chose the right brand of heroism,” Loki retorted with a snort. “I’m not the one gallivanting as some shieldmaiden knockoff of the Valkyrie.” He clasped his hands behind his back and lifted his chin. “Just as well, don’t make too many assumptions about my valiance based on face–” Loki leered as he swept over her costume “–or carnal values.” 

If Pansy were Granger, she’d have blushed at that moment. Instead, she was partially offended and kept true to her fashion principle. And staring at a leering Captain America–especially since she knew who was wearing that wholesome face–was horrid. 

“I couldn’t give a rat’s arse about your opinion of my costume,” she said, placing her hands on her hips. “Wonder Woman is a queen, a goddess in her own right. Her choice of garments isn’t too shabby either. It caught your attention didn’t it?” 

“It was the person wearing the false queen garments that caught my attention. The clothes were an unfortunate association my eyes had to endure.” 

Pansy pursed her lips. Flattery would get him nowhere. “Why are you here?” 

“Any other night I wouldn’t care much for rubbing elbows or socializing with the Avengers,” Loki drawled. “However, I found myself feeling nostalgic for some common bacchanalia tonight. And what better way to indulge in such debauchery than appearing as Midgardian’s fearless hero.”

The dark-haired witch rolled her eyes; she could just walk away and let him ‘indulge in debauchery’. She didn’t. “Surely you could have occupied your time elsewhere.” 

“Not when the odds of fun were set here.” 

“It won’t work in your favor, Loki.” 

“I’m the God of Mischief, little witch,” Loki stated in a low tone in her ear. “Everything about this night works in my favor in one way or another.”

She raised a brow in a challenging manner. “Does that include your impersonation of the great hero himself?” 

Loki’s expression didn’t waver as he tilted his head back. “It caught your attention did it not?” 

Damn him. “No, what caught my attention was the fact that  _ someone  _ was staring at me like a piece of ready meat.” 

He hummed in response, looking towards the ground then meeting her eyes. “Actually, I was staring at you like a captivating woman dressed as the wrong queen.”

Pansy scoffed, saving face and refusing to acknowledge that her heart skipped a beat. “And the right queen would be a warrior of the Valkyrie?” 

“Not at all,” Loki replied, taking a step to close the distance between them. “The right queen, my dear little witch, would be  _ my  _ queen. I would like to correct the mistake and dress you properly.” 

It had been a year since their little spur-of-the-moment tryst. Why was her body so eager to give into him like it happened mere hours before? His sorcery could rival Merlin’s at this rate. She barely knew the god, found him irritating at best. Barely anyone in the room could say they trusted him–hell, they would strike or hex him if he showed his true self. He hadn’t sought her out since that night. They hadn’t seen one another at all. What was so different about tonight, huh? 

“Of course, the first course of action will be to rid you of your current attire.” 

Damn him. Damn her weak flesh. Damn this idea of a costume. She should have gone with the firewhiskey. 

“If you think you’re taking anything off my person, I’d prefer to see your actual face.” 

* * *

The illusion of Captain America stripped away from Loki like water cascading down a waterfall. She watched from his bed–at some point arriving in the minimal yet intimate space–with fascination. This was much better than Transfiguration with McGonagall. 

What once was a helmet became long, tousled black hair that was brushed back. The large, muscled physique shifted to one more lithe and firm. Pansy licked her bottom lip as heat spread between her thighs. 

Those gleaming eyes she remembered a year ago was staring back at her; his smirk was in place as well. It fit his current appearance much better than his pretense as Captain America. 

The fact that he was also complete nude fit much better. 

“Roaming about commando as you posed as Captain America?” she asked, a sly grin of her own beginning to form. 

He chuckled deeply in return, and his eyes darkened. “There was no time for me to waste on myself when a correction must be made.” 

Pansy beckoned Loki to come closer from his spot at the end of the bed. She lifted one of her boot-clad legs and pointed her foot in his direction. “Correct it then.” 

Loki didn’t say anything; instead, he grasped her leg and tugged her boot off. He held her bare ankle in one hand as Pansy lifted her other leg. Loki removed the second boot and discarded it to the floor. As he moved further on the bed, his lips grazed her left leg from her ankle to her knee. 

Her breathing had become shallower when she felt his against her thighs. The god took his precious time teasing her legs, and Pansy was conflicted between demanding for more and savoring the tingling that waded in her core. Demanding won out, but her demands weren’t voiced because Loki took that moment to introduce his tongue to her inner thighs. 

“_O-Oh_,” Pansy breathed out with a gasp, the lustful haze building up and clouding her rationale. 

“I’ve wanted to hear that since last year, my little witch,” Loki told her, kissing near the lining of her knickers. “I convinced myself you were just a conquest, but seeing you tonight invoked a fire hotter than Muspelheim. I couldn’t let that pass.” 

She released a soft moan when his fingers gripped at her dress and stripped it away with ease. She gave him a hand by slipping the gauntlets from her arms, so only her black undergarments remained. Though, that only lasted for a second because they were quickly magicked away from her body. 

Loki slipped an arm around Pansy’s waist to lift her up and position himself at her entrance. 

“I had to have you again.” 

He kept her gaze, the dark, sensual shine unwavered. Pansy would have been foolish to push this kind of desire away right then. It wasn’t good for her, sure, but she didn’t always make the best decisions. 

She wove her fingers through his soft hair and pressed her chest into his. “Have me,” she whispered. 

The wetness that formed from her initial arousal helped Loki push through her entrance, and she kissed him to silence her pleasured cry. Through their kiss, his thrusts started at a slow, sharp pace, sending shockwaves throughout Pansy’s body. She gripped the hair on the nape of his neck and cursed against his lips just as his hips moved faster. 

If there had been any real intention for redressing Pansy, the only material available would have been his dark sheets. 

* * *

Many hours had passed since their first round of sex, and Pansy felt exhausted but very satisfied. The worst part of it all was that she wouldn’t mind having a fourth go with the man she was currently laying against. 

As she laid her hand against his chest, he grabbed the crown she’d completely forgotten was resting in her hair in the first place. 

“Quite a feat it was to maintain a crown in your hair through those creative positions,” Loki stated, examining the headpiece with an amused expression.

Pansy shook her head lightly. “I suppose you’re going to burn it like you did the dress?”

Loki took a deep breath with a mocking thoughtful look. He pulled her closer so her leg hooked around his waist and placed the crown back in her hair.

“While I would very much enjoy burning more evidence of the false queen garbs, I find it’s much more suited on my queen’s head,” he said. “After all, we must test its capabilities in the positions we’ve yet to try.”

Grinning wickedly to herself, Pansy decided that she could be Loki’s queen for the remainder of the night...and tomorrow. 


End file.
